


Your Body's My Body

by derekstilinski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Body Swap, M/M, Sexual Content, Teen Wolf AU, werewolf bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 19:06:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derekstilinski/pseuds/derekstilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles get body swapped... Interesting things happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Body's My Body

**Author's Note:**

> Shit, this became so much longer and fluffier than I expected. But I'm rating it NC-17 because there’s stuff.

Stiles feels… weird. It’s like he doesn’t fit on his bed the same way he fell asleep. He guesses it’s only right when he rolls over and promptly falls out of bed. He sighs, opens his eyes and picks himself up, feels like his center of gravity is off as he walks into the bathroom. He rubs at his hair - _i just trimmed it a little while ago it shouldn’t be growing back so fast_ \- and grabs for his toothpaste and brush. He’s still riddled with sleep but manages to get the toothpaste on the bristles, turn on the faucet, and stick the brush into his mouth without missing.

It’s only when he’s finished brushing his teeth and looks up when he realizes why he didn’t fit on his bed, why he felt weird. He yelps, one not in his voice, and staggers back, Derek Hale’s eyes wide and shocked looking back at him in the mirror.

“Oh, my God.” He stares, and the eyes widen even more. He definitely said that, but it’s in Derek’s voice and sounds all wrong. He’s wearing his clothes and they don’t fit right. It’s just not right. “Oh, my _God_!”

He makes another noise that would never really come out of Derek’s mouth and runs back into his room, surprised that he doesn’t trip, and grabs his phone from his nightstand. He dials Scott’s number, waits impatiently for him to answer.

“Stiles, hey. I—”

“Scott!”

It’s quiet for a few beats, and then, “Derek?”

“No, it’s me. I-It’s Stiles. Dude, something’s happened.”

—

Derek wakes to breathing in his face and opens his eyes, seeing Isaac staring down at him with a shocked expression, “What the hell are you looking at, Isaac?”

“Holy shit.” Isaac’s eyes are rounder than Derek’s ever seen them and his pup backs away, folding in on himself against the wall, “D-Derek?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounds different and he clears his throat, sitting up. Oh, something is _off_. He swings his legs off the bed and sits up, looking down at his hands, “Holy shit.”

He looks up at Isaac, sees him holding out a shard of broken mirror. He takes it and growls at himself, which doesn’t even sound right. Stiles’ face with his own unhappy expression is looking back at him.

He’s gonna call Scott just to yell at him.

—

“Derek, look, I don’t know what happened…. You don’t sound as threatening with Stiles’ voice…”

“Dude!” Stiles is exasperated already. Maybe calling Scott wasn’t the best thing, because the most said thing that’s come out of his mouth is ‘I don’t know’. But he’s freaking out, and really has to pee. And those are two separate problems that have come about because of this one thing - _So not fucking fair_.

Scott just waves a hand at him before talking more quietly. But Scott’s asking if Derek’s still there even if it’s obvious he’s not and there are pebbles being thrown at his window. It kind of annoying. Scott sighs and shoves his phone back into his pocket, then opens the window. “You could at least say goodbye to people, you know.”

A figure jumps through his window, rolls with grace and lands standing on his feet. Stiles is shocked because that’s _him_ that just did that. Well, not him. It’s Derek… in his body - _It looks cool, alright?_ Derek’s eyes, he can see that it’s Derek now, just the way he stares, the way he stands. The clothes he has on are Derek’s and they’re a little baggy. Stiles hasn’t even thought about changing yet, but it feels like a good idea.

“Scott, did you see that? I looked _awesome_.” Comes out of his mouth because he’s sort of terrified and intrigued.

“Shut up.” Is Derek’s instant come back as he pulls up his jeans from where they’re hanging low on his hips. He doesn’t look as intimidating as before. Stiles chuckles at him and - Oh that’s what Derek’s laugh sounds like - he’s surprised to see Derek’s eyes flare up with red.

“Okay, you’re pissed, I get it. Jeez. Careful with my eyes, alright? Don’t burn ‘em out.” He’s feeling kind of confident.

“I’m not going to…” Derek trails off and sighs, shakes his head.

“…Alright. We have to figure out what happened, and fix it, because we don’t need everyone finding out Stiles now wears leather and doesn’t live at home, and no one needs to see Derek Hale in the Sheriff’s son’s bedroom… Wearing his clothes.” Scott cuts in, getting both of them to look his way.

“I look bad, right?” Stiles pulls at the hem of his Stud Muffin t-shirt to try and stretch it out.

“Yes.” Scott and Derek’s answers are in sync.

“Well, then.” He huffs and gets up, starts going through his drawers.

“Don’t put me in any of that plaid stuff.” Derek warns. Stiles vows he’s going to find plaid Derek’s body can wear just because that’s been said.

“Stiles?!” Sheriff’s Stilinski’s voice is muffled through the door and his footsteps are coming up the stairs, “Hey, kid, you up yet?”

Stiles’ eyes widen, and so do Scott’s. Derek just sort of stands there for a moment before realizing. Stiles drops the clothes in his hands and goes over to Derek, pulling his jacket from his shoulders. The Alpha looks at him incredulously, that special way he uses to let Stiles know he isn’t fond of what he’s doing.

“You have to make him go away!” The teen tells him in a hurried whisper, pushing him over to the door. It feels weird because he can’t feel anything back for the first time. “And don’t hit him!”

“Like I wanna get arrested right now.” Derek says with a roll of the eyes and opens the door just enough.

“Hey, I gotta go to work soon and they have me on an all-nighter, so I won’t be home. You don’t have to worry, I’ll be fine, and you can order pizza and call Scott or that Danny kid or whatever, okay?” the Sheriff smiles and Stiles feels a pang of worry. He hates when Dad doesn’t come home.

Derek’s hit with something in his chest and his features falter for a second. Stiles’ father looks concerned. “Stiles, it’s okay.” His hand comes out and settles on his shoulder, reassuring him. Derek momentarily stills, tightens up. Stiles thinks it’s the end of the world before he can hear his voice say “I know. Be… careful, tonight.”

Sheriff Stilinski smiles, “Of course, son.” He pats his kid’s shoulder then lets go, starts back down the hall. “By the way, those pants are too big for you.”

Derek gets out a fake laugh before he closes the door. He looks over at Stiles and sees some sort of bliss on his face. It’s quiet for a few moments.

“You heard him. I need different pants.”

It’s weird to see his own body trip and words stutter from his mouth.

—

“Did you really have to put me in _that_ shirt?” He’s leaning against Stiles’ desk and watching how smug Stiles looks while wearing that goddamn plaid.

“Plaid is awesome. I’m surprised it even fits your body.” The younger teen tells him, not really surprised. He wears stuff bigger sometimes and he’s more than glad he does now… Even if he’s wearing Derek’s pants and shoes.

“I thought your plan was for us to look normal.”

“Says the werewolf _not_ wearing plaid… Hey, does this mean I’m the Alpha now?” He leans back in his seat and folds his fingers together, laying his hands on his stomach. It’s weird, he can feel just how different this body is. He has to settle in just a little differently with everything and he had a mild freak out when he realized Derek’s mouth had been on his toothbrush.

“No, it doesn’t.” Derek says with a strict tone, one Stiles only uses when he’s talking to Jackson or is mad at Scott.

“Woah, okay. Calm it down, will ya? You have to be me…” He looks down for his watch but realizes it’s not on his wrist anymore. He tilts his head to see the time from where Derek’s put his hand holding the edge of his desk. “And as me, you’re gonna be late for school.”

“High School? No.” Derek shakes his head but Stiles is already packing away his books, smug grin on his face.

“High School, yes. You have to go. What do you do all day? Brood? I don’t know if I’ll get that down but I can try.” He’s more comfortable with touching Derek now - more so than before. Maybe it’s because he’s bigger - and takes him by the arm, leading him downstairs. Derek goes, even if he’s reluctant.

“I do not brood. I train Isaac and Erica. Isaac already knows I’m in your body and he’s nervous. I can’t just go be you with my pack like this.” He lets Stiles lead him down the stairs and he keeps thinking that the Sheriff is going to come around a corner and catch them. It’s probably just because this whole place smells like them, it is their home after all, and he takes a good look around.

“I’ll train them today. You, school. You have Econ, then Chemistry, then English, lacrosse practice—You’ll just be sitting on the bench, though. It’s lunch by then, and Study Hall. That’s it. It’s easy. Now, gimme your jacket.” The kid rambles and he furrows his brows.

“…My jacket?” He looks down at it, then back up. Stiles is grabbing a hoodie from the coat rack by the door. “No. Stiles, no. I’m gonna look like—”

“Stiles. You’re gonna look Stiles Stilinski, the awkward kid that no one likes and can’t play lacrosse.” He holds up the hoodie and his expression is suddenly serious. Derek feels this… thing again in his chest and it encourages him to shed his jacket, hand it over and accept the old hoodie. He slips it on and zips it up, watches Stiles shrug on his jacket, shift a little in the leather.

Derek sighs and takes the keys to Stiles’ Jeep - he knows which ones they are, they have a key chain with a faded Mets logo on it, along with a key to the house - He grabs Stiles’ backpack from the floor, swings it onto his shoulder, “Don’t take any shit from Erica. She’ll know something’s off even if Isaac doesn’t tell her.”

“I’ll channel my inner creep, now let’s go. Coach’ll tear you a new one if you’re late to his class.” Stiles ushers him out the door, then bites his lip, “I’ll be right back”.

Not being able to hold it any longer, he staggers back up the stairs to finally pee.

—

Derek walks up the steps to the school, slowly because he doesn’t want to go inside. Someone shoves him as they walk inside and he’s honestly surprised. No one does that… But he’s Stiles now. Does that really happen to him on a daily basis? He walks in and forgets everything Stiles told him about classes. He feels small. He looks around at everyone as he walks, tries to find where he’s supposed to go.

“You look like a lost puppy, Stilinski.” Jackson’s snark voice says from behind him and he gets shoved for the second time.

“Excuse me?” His voice sounds lower, not quite Stiles’ and he meets Jackson’s eyes.

“Wha…?” He gasps when a glowing crimson appears in Stiles’ eyes and takes a step back.

“Careful what you say, Jackson… You’re looking pale, like you’ve seen a ghost. Not much better than me, I’m guessing.” Derek smirks and lets the wolf inside settle down. He doesn’t think it’d be good to shift in Stiles’ body. He walks with more swagger than he should for Stiles but doesn’t care. He does not want to get shoved again.

His phone buzzes and he slips it from the hoodie’s pocket. It’s a text from… Derek, the phone says. Stiles. He’s surprised it’s his actual name and not something like ‘Sourwolf’ or ‘Big Scary Alpha’. He taps the screen. It’s a locker number and the combination. _Econ notes in the blue notebook. You have six minutes until class._

Derek internally swears and looks for the kid’s locker. He finds it in three, grabs the notebook, and Scott saves him at the last moment by whispering in class so he can find him. He gets into the room just as Coach Finstock is moving to close the door.

“Bilinski, nice of you to join us.” He says sarcastically, just a little too loud. Derek doesn’t like him.

“Thought I’d grace you with my presence.” He says as he walks to the only available desk left, slides into it. It’s near the window and it makes it alright. Coach just sort of stares at him for a moment, and he stares back, probably something Stiles doesn’t do because he doesn’t get in trouble for it. Coach just goes around his desk, tells some kid that he doesn’t like them, and begins class.

—

Stiles struts onto Hale property, comes out from the trees and into the clearing. He actually ran here - okay jogged half the way and walked some - but it felt good. He could do it without tripping every other step. It was kind of awesome. He’s not even out of breath. He sees Erica laying down in the grass and Isaac fiddling with something in his hands.

“Cat’s Cradle.” He realizes and chuckles, “Funny.”

The two werewolves are up in an instant, Isaac putting his string in his pocket. He walks in front of the two of them, putting on a very Derek persona. Isaac knows what’s up, and he can tell Erica’s sensing something, but he smiles at her. He paces, slowly, like he’s debating something.

“Um.” Isaac starts but Stiles looks at him, tries to give him a glare. He guesses it works because the guy looks straight again. Erica isn’t so formal.

“You smell like Stiles.” She says, hand on her hip. Erica doesn’t like him.

“Well… the places you wake up.” He tells her, shrugs. She looks incredulous and he tries it, just so she’ll stop talking, “Now, drills!”

They go into action immediately, speeding off into the woods. He honestly didn’t think that would work.

—

Chemistry. Last time he was in here, he got chased by the cops for saving someone’s life. Yeah, this place is fun. Jackson is hounding Scott about something so he finds an empty table and sits. He hasn’t really been listening so far, and he’s not about to listen to Harris. He picks at the tattered end of Stiles’ hoodie sleeve and sighs. Six hours of this shit, all over again. Wasn’t once enough for him?

“You’re gonna ruin it.” A voice says. He looks up, a familiar face sitting down next to him. Danny, the hacker kid. He remembers him.

“Ruin what?” He asks as he does actually pull out one of the loose strings, “Oh.”

Danny chuckles, “Yeah, oh. You seem off today, you alright?”

It takes him a few moments. He hasn’t been genuinely asked that question in a long time. He nods, “Fine.”

“Mr. Stilinski, are you talking again?” Harris speaks up and Derek looks over at him.

“I was.” He answers. Scott’s giving him a signal to stop, he can see it in his peripheral.

“I thought so. I had the almost unbearable urge to set fire to this classroom.” He says and Derek flares with anger, but keeps himself under control.

“Really? I’ve heard you’ve aided in that before.” He replies just as casually, Scott looking like he’s having a fucking heart attack. Harris is flustered for a moment, his heartbeat picking up, showing fear, anxiety. He doesn’t know what to say. Derek turns back to Danny, holding out his wrist with the tatter sleeve, “You know how to fix these?”

Danny nods, looking a little astonished. He glances up, can see faint smiles on a good chunk of the students’ faces. Scott looks frantic and so does Jackson, but Danny chuckles softly when Harris isn’t looking.

Six hours.

Six hours to make these people notice Stiles.

—

Drills were hell. He didn’t know he was part of them. By now, Erica knows something’s really not normal but she isn’t saying anything about it - well, other than “new found sense of confidence”, which makes Stiles think she knows - and they’re almost done. Just some weird yoga thing that focuses on breathing. He does it, even if he knows it’s not taking, then tells them to get to school. Derek would want them to go to school.

They go, Isaac doing this little nuzzling thing to his shoulder, smirking at him. “Bye, Stiles.”

He rolls his eyes. He’s the actual Alpha, Derek Hale. Nothing’s gonna change that right now. It feels kind of cool, even if he’s alone. He debates just hanging at Derek’s house, maybe doing a little investigating - snooping - but doesn’t, saves it for another time. Home just feels more comforting than knowledge at the moment.

He takes a walk, hands in his pockets and seeing things through Derek’s eyes. Derek’s eyes… Huh. Derek’s eyes were an odd color. The human ones. What were they? Blue, green? It sometimes, when Stiles got a close look, usually when Derek was threatening him, looked like they were blue, speckled with bits of ocean green. Like sea foam but better, Crayola needs to check their shit.

When he gets home, he goes for the front door, digging in his pocket for his keys. Then he realizes Derek has his keys. He sighs and looks around, then in a very i’m-totally-not-going-to-break-in fashion, moves around to the back yard. If Derek can hop up into his window in his body, he do the same in Derek’s body. Derek’s a big guy, muscles and stuff - he hasn’t looked anywhere else where he could be big, just couldn’t bring himself to - He can be completely werewolf-esque with this.

“Come on, Stiles. You can do this… It’s not like you’ll break anything.” He encourages himself and nods, starting to climb. He’s not used to this body enough, has trouble pulling himself up, getting his knee up because his legs are longer than they used to be. But he sees his still-open window and he’s pretty proud of himself. “Awesome!”

Celebrating early isn’t the right thing. He makes an embarrassing noise when he slips.

—

It’s time for lacrosse. He’s in the gear, has the stick, and—he’s on the bench. It’s practice, and he’s on the bench. Everyone is supposed to participate in practice. He should be on the field.

“Hey, Coach.” He starts but he’s cut off with a hand wave.

“Shut up, Bilinski. Gracing us with your presence isn’t exactly a feel-good thing.” He says, not even looking away from the field.

“It’s Stilinski.” Derek tells him sternly. Coach takes a moment, then looks over at him.

“What?”

“Stiles Stilinski.” He stands up, “That’s how you say it. And you know, what if you just tried to play me? Do you even know what would happen?”

“Fine. _Stilinski_ , if you think you’re so good, go ahead.” He grabs Stiles’ helmet from the bench and shoves it on his head. “Go.”

Derek gives him a fake grin before jogging out onto the field. Scott shakes his head, “This isn’t a good idea.”

“You didn’t hear him this morning.” He says, buckles the helmet in place.

“Derek, what if Stiles can’t actually play? And then you’re really good and stuff?” Isaac asks from across the field, low enough for only him and Scott to hear.

“Get over here. You’re gonna be the one that knocks me down.” Isaac smiles and runs over, sets their sticks on either side of the ball. “This is the only time I’m gonna let you do it, pup. Remember that.”

He gets a nod before Coach blows the whistle and Isaac’s right there, taking the ball and tackling him. He groans and shakes himself out of it, getting up. He’s surprised when he trips a little on the grass. “Damn.”

“Great idea, Stilinski!” Coach shouts at him, “Set up again, show me that you’re not completely useless!”

Anger rumbles in Derek’s chest; Stiles is _not_ useless.

—

After the initial feeling of the wind getting knocked out of him, Stiles recovers and does actually make it up to his window, where he falls in - maybe not so Alpha-ish after all - He picks himself up and plops in his computer chair, wipes the dirt from Derek’s jeans.

He taps on every key on the keyboard of his laptop with a soft fist and watches as it wakes up. He may not be good with being in a werewolf’s body, but he’s good at research. He wonders what to even search for first: ‘Body switched lycan’? ‘Alpha human relationship’? ‘Werewolf body swap curse’? ‘I’m in Derek Hale’s body what the fuck to do I do’?

“Ow, my God.” He feels a deep ache in his chest for a moment, a sharp but barely there feeling before it’s gone. He stretches to make sure he’s okay, the last thing he wants to do is screw up Derek’s body. He runs a hand through his hair, smiles because hey, his is too short right now for this and it feels awesome. He decides it’s gonna be a thing now.

—

He sets up again, eyes flaring red and Isaac looks scared. “Don’t worry, pup. Only gonna bump you.”

The whistle blows and Derek lashes out, shoulder to Isaac’s chest, just enough to knock him over. He grabs the ball and runs, tries to make it look like how Stiles runs. He lets himself get swiped by Scott, and ducks just before he can actually hit him. As he falls, he throws the ball, gets it past Danny - he doesn’t know if Danny let him have that one or not.

The lands on the ground with a grunt and hears Argent’s daughter and Lydia in the stands, clapping and cheering. Scott’s right there. “Dude, you scored a—! Oh, right. Well, good!” He gets helped up and Scott still smiles at him, gets one from Danny, too. Jackson looks wary but claps anyway.

“Stilinski!” Coach’s voice makes him sick already. He sighs and jogs over.

“Yes?”

“How the hell did you do that?”

“Pretty sure I could always do that.” He smirks and sits back on the bench. The look on Coach’s face has Isaac just about howling with laughter. Derek takes off the helmet and rubs a hand over Stiles’ hair. He’s seen the kid doing practices by himself before. That play was what Stiles did.

“What are you doing?! Get back out there!” Coach yells at him, then looks off onto the field, “Greenburg, why couldn’t you surprise me like that?!”

Derek thinks over the other runs he’s caught Stiles doing as he places the helmet back on his head.

—

Stiles is spending a little too much time here, looking in the mirror. He only meant to take a piss and not look at the guy’s junk, but ended up peeing, zipping up and catching how his muscles flexed in the mirror.

It just sort of spiraled down from there.

Now, he’s in the view of the mirror, shirt on the counter, and he’s just looking. His hands are planted on the counter and he’s just watching the way Derek’s body moves. How his jaw moves, sharp line and likes the way the stubble looks. How his shoulders slump and the way his hips rock, how visible the bones are peeking out from his jeans. Derek wears them low, so he’s worn them lower. It’s fascinating.

He bites his lip, pokes his tongue out to wet them, watches closely. He’s never really seen Derek do that before. Ever. It looks nice. He thinks about texting Danny, asking him if anxiety churning in the pit of his stomach that actually feels kind of good is bad. He closes his eyes to steady himself and grabs the shirt, shrugging it back on and redoing the buttons. He can’t help but glide his fingers across Derek’s stomach.

God, he should be doing something useful. Not staring at this guy’s body… But he’s curious. And Derek’s… Well, Derek. He sighs and hears footsteps coming up the stairs. It’s probably a dumb move that he hides in the shower, since the curtain is white and clear.

“Stiles?” It’s his own voice and he sounds happy… Wait, he sounds happy? Derek’s happy. He trips over himself in getting out of the shower and bumps into Derek at the door.

“Hey.” It’s said a bit too loud. He smiles to cover it up.

“School sucked. Just wanted to you to know that… Until I fixed it.” The wolf tells him, going to shrug off his backpack.

“You didn’t kill everyone in the school, did you?” Stiles follows him, watches him set his bag by his desk. He probably has a thousand detention slips and crumpled up homework in there.

“No. Harris and your Coach pissed me off, though. And why are you getting shoved when you walk in that place?” Derek asks, fiddling with the zipper on his hoodie. It got stuck somewhere around lunch. He grabs the hem and pulls, taking it over his head.

Stiles yelps when the shirt Derek’s wearing lifts up too, a large bruise on his side staining his skin. “What the hell? Did you get me into fights?”

Derek looks down at it, holds the fabric up, “Nope. Lacrosse.”

“Lacrosse? How do you get that from sitting on the bench?” Derek holds his tongue. He shrugs and Stiles pulls a face, which makes him look downright ridiculous with his features. “Well, why aren’t you healing?”

“…I am. It was worse earlier.”

“Worse earli…Oh.” Stiles pouts and moves forward, leaning in to check it out. It’s purple and sort of gray, faint yellow in places. _Jesus, how did it look before?_ He sets a hand near the end of the bruise and Derek gasps, body jerks a little. The bruise starts to go through the stages of healing, right before his eyes. Stiles feels out of breath.

“Shit.” Derek whispers, trailing his fingers over where the bruise just was, bumping Stiles’ fingers.

“H-How did…?” He presses a little to his skin before he moves away, sits on his bed. His rubs his eyes to make sure he’s see correctly. _Yep, it’s actually gone._

“I don’t know.” Derek’s voice is soft, appalled, and he lets the fabric drop back into place. He starts for the window, looking like he’s fixated on something else. “You uh, stay here. I’m gonna go check on the pack. Just… sleep or something.”

He’s pulling the window up and Stiles speaks up, “Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“You can go through the front door.”

—

It’s around nine, and Derek isn’t back. That’s sort of to be expected, but he hopes Derek isn’t doing anything dangerous or illegal in his body. He calms himself by playing with Derek’s hair, one hand fiddling with the strands. Derek’s probably keeping them both safe, he decides.

He’s tired and has had a long, odd day of not being himself. It’s nice to be in bed, even if the bedroom door is locked just in case anyone’s to show up to check on him. Nervousness gets to him a little bit in that. He wishes he could just calm down, get sleepy enough. He knows what he would usually do when he’s trying to go to sleep. When he’s finally alone, finally able to wind down.

It wouldn’t be that bad, right? Derek wouldn’t kill him for it.

_I’m a teenager_ , he thinks as she shuts off the light, as his room goes completely dark.

_Derek wouldn’t know_ , he thinks as he slips out of he nightshirt he put himself in.

_Derek’s kind of hot_ , he thinks as he closes his eyes and lets one of his hands explore his muscled torso.

He can’t see a thing, even if he opened his eyes and wanted to and maybe it’s not that bad, because it’s feels awesome, just touching down his body. He traces each of the muscles in Derek’s abdomen, counts them silently. He shifts his hips, letting out a deep breath. He lets himself feel more than he thinks about things, feels more and more anticipation as he gets lower down. The sweatpants he’s wearing are fully tented and he’s almost nervous when he glides his fingers down the light trail of hair that leaves his breathing uneven while he fiddles with the waistband.

He bites down on his lip, different feeling than his own actual lips, and slips in his hand down. The first contact pulls a gasp from him, fingers circling around and _Oh holy fuck_ , he’s got his hand on Derek’s cock.

“Oh, shit.” It just sort of falls from his mouth and it sounds so good, something he didn’t know he wanted to hear. He adjusts his grip, slides up once and groans, tingling sensation zinging up his spine, filling out his body.

He hastily lets go, raises his hips and pulls down the fabric. It’s not all the way off but he could care less. It’s out of the way. He licks his palm and moves it back down, other hand gripping in his hair to keep back a noise as he starts to pump himself. It’s familiar and alien at the same time. The motions are the same, the feeling. Derek’s body reacts differently to pleasure, hips rutting up immediately while Stiles can usually keep himself from getting too excited too quick.

But it doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t because it feels so good and he loves knowing this is the way that Derek would react if he was in this body, if Stiles got to touch him when they were normal. Oh, Stiles wants to, wonders how long it’s been since Derek felt good as he speeds up his hand.

—

Derek trips, feels out of breath. He takes refuge against the trunk of a tree and takes in air. His stomach is in knots and his lap is throbbing with pleasure - _fucking christ he’s getting hard in Stiles’ body_. He leans his head back and clenches his jaw, urge to make noise almost overwhelming. He hasn’t done this in a while, hasn’t had the time or is just too angry at everything to even think about it.

He presses his palm to his groin and a noise slips, Stiles’ voice echoing out into the night and the sound of it urges another, encourages him. He digs his other hand into the dirt below him and groans openly. This came out of no where and he doesn’t even care, welcomes all the surprises he’s getting so far, whole body flooding with pleasure and relief and his whole body jerks when he comes.

“Holy _fuck_.” He sounds like he wants Stiles to sound and jerks again right there on the ground, eyes glowing red and hand tight over the zipper of his pants. He doesn’t even want to move, sated and hot all over, wet in Stiles’ underwear. It’s dirty and a bead of sweat rolls down the tendon in his neck. Stiles skin is wonderful, and another urge comes up. To touch.

—

Stiles shudders, feels really dirty while he’s rubbing come around on his stomach. _Derek’s come_ , he thinks to himself as he stops, timidly brings a finger up to his mouth and tastes. He’s surprised when sweetness coats his taste buds, something earthy and very Derek. He takes his shirt and cleans up, then  pulls up his sweatpants and sighs, turns on his side.

Sleep is there in minutes.

—

The next day, Stiles wakes up to hands. He feels electrified, something primal coursing through his veins. It feels like he’s been running even though he’s just waken up and it’s making him gasp.

“Shh.” Derek tells him, hovering over him. The blankets are gone from the bed and Stiles is still shirtless, evidence of last night on the floor next to the bed. He tries not to hyperventilate. Derek gives him a hard look that comes through his features and his hands press harder where they’re on his chest. “Calm down, we can’t do this if you’re freaking out.”

“Do what?” He asks. He wants to growl at him and run and roll around in dirt. He wants things that he’s never wanted before, rare steak and a full moon.

“Just be quiet.” The wolf tells him, “Listen.”

He falls silent, trying to breathe normally. He hears two heartbeats, both fast. He blinks and everything’s ultra clear, twenty five-twenty vision. There’s an aching in his hands, his fingers. His head hurts. “What the fuck?”

“We _can_ do this.” Derek sounds shocked, but it’s slowly overcome by a sly smile. His eyes start to flicker with red and he leans down, “Stiles, concentrate. Remember from yesterday? We healed me. And look at you now.” One of his hands leave Stiles’ chest, wrap around his wrist and bring it up. There are claws replacing his fingernails and something hits him them; power, the wolf.

It’s overwhelming. This feeling… It’s baffling Stiles and he lets it fill him, lets it surge through him like a lightning bolt. He growls and and moves, suddenly they’re on the floor and he’s pinning Derek to the ground. It’s odd to look down at his own body, controlled by another person. But then, Derek’s both controlling them at the moment. He roars at him softly, the way he’s heard Derek’s protecting roar and there’s something poking at his mouth.

Derek chuckles softly, watching the canines grow. He’s never seen his own body when he’s changed before. His own eyes are red, he knows that. He sees Stiles, in his body, eyes flicker into an electric blue. His Beta eyes.

“It’s a bond.” Stiles gets out in a whisper. He’s hypersensitive, every nerve on end. It’s madness, what’s happening inside him right now. He can hear _everything_. Wind outside, the start of rain. The tick of the clock downstairs in the kitchen. The little whirr of his laptop across the room. Derek’s breathing, Derek’s blood pumping.

The wolf nods and Stiles swears he shudders before he’s gently taking his hands off him. Everything starts to fade after a few moments. Hearing going back to normal, sight twenty-twenty again, regular teeth, fingernails. He’s reverting back to human he _shakes_ , can feel his bones shake like he’s freezing but he’s really hot all over. He doesn’t know whether that was terrible or lovely.

“Fucking Christ, Derek. Warn a guy next time.” He breathes, sets a hand to his forehead.

“Fine.” Is all he gets back and he looks down at him - his eyes are going back to Stiles’ normal brown but his pupils are dilated as hell, skin shining with a bit of sweat, just like Stiles’ skin is. But he looks… content. Happy, even. - He grunts and gets off him, braces his back against his bed. Derek sits up as well. “Did it hurt?”

“Little bit, yeah… Just, God, go shower or something. You smell like the woods.” Derek shrugs and gets up - on shaky legs - and makes his way to the bathroom, leaving the door cracked open.

Stiles has permission to freak out now, right? He had fucking werewolf teeth. Werewolf claws. He had heightened senses. It was cool, but… weird. Not something he’d want in full. He gets up slowly, moves and sinks down in his computer chair. He wants to write about this, document it for future explanation. He knows how they feel now. He thinks about it over again and as he moves to turn the black screen on his laptop to his desktop, he catches his eyes spark blue.

—

After Derek’s shower, Stiles gets in, makes sure he scrubs himself clean - and pinches himself a few times to make sure he’s not still dreaming. When he steps out, Derek’s right there. He squeaks, something that should never be in Derek’s tone, and scrambles to cover himself up.

“You do remember that’s my body and I’ve seen it naked before, right?” Derek hops up on the counter while Stiles gets a towel around his waist.

“Still, it’s the principal of it.” He tells him. The wolf holds out clothes to him and he takes them, gives him a glare.

“Anyway, before I head off to slug through another day of your schooling, I wanted to—Aren’t you gonna get dressed?” He acts like Stiles isn’t insecure, no matter what body he’s in. Which Stiles does not appreciate. Derek taps his fingers on his thigh and continues, “I wanted to tell you that you don’t have to train Erica and Isaac today. They’ll be at school with me.”

“Uh, okay.” Stiles looks at him for a few moments, hoping he’ll go into the other room. He doesn’t. But Stiles notices something. “…Hey, you’re wearing plaid.”

Derek only shrugs, picking at the blue, white and green fabric. He still doesn’t move from the counter. _Looks like I’m getting dressed with an audience today_ , Stiles thinks as he blushes and drops the towel.

—

Stiles falls out of his window again, thankfully with a little more grace this time. His Dad’s home now, sees the police cruiser in the driveway and heads across the street. He walks along the sidewalk and watches Derek get into his Jeep, gets a wink before he drives off.

Stiles notices that his Dad watches the Jeep go from the window. He’s never noticed before. Derek’s body is giving him new views on everything.

He continues down the street, Mrs. Mich’s scrawny dog yipping at him from the porch of her house. He can’t help in growling at it, just because he can, watching it sit obediently and look at him, ears up. Oh, another perk. _Awesome_.

Derek told him, while he was getting dressed, that he left his Camaro down the block in case Stiles wanted to go anywhere. He sees it just around the corner and jogs up to it, taking the keys out of his pocket. He unlocks the door and slides in the driver’s seat, sticks the key in the ignition and turns on the car.

He drives to the animal shelter, noticing that Derek has an impressive selection of CDs along the way. When he gets there, he leaves the jacket in the car and walks in, goes up to the front desk. He puts on a smile. “Hi.”

“Hi. You’re the one that called, right? Derek Hale?” She says, gives a smile back while she stands up.

“Yeah.” He answers and gets led to the back. He thought since Derek is going to school for him, he could make him look good to the community. All the dogs bark and howl from their cages when they walk in.

“We haven’t been able to find anyone who will take this on.” She laughs softly, grabs leashes from a hook on the wall.

He shrugs, “I’m good with animals.”

“For your sake, I hope so.” She goes into each of the cages, putting a leash on each dog, handing him one at a time. A few of them are really big but it’s nothing he can’t handle. She pats him on the back on his way out. He’s going to make sure he’s seen by people.

He jogs with them, they mostly pull him. A few people out on the street see him, and he takes a detour by the police station, officers outside watching as he goes by. He silently cheers when his father’s cruiser rolls up and he gets out, because he definitely sees him. After that, he goes back around, takes the dogs to the dog park. He’s seen by more people, and gets tackled by all six of the canines he’s with. It’s just a fun time when he growls, makes them all line up in a row like he’s training Erica and Isaac.

“And then, if you’re good, I’ll give you some treats.” He’s saying when they all break their quietness, by barking and howling and jumping all over the place. He chuckles and takes out the bag from his back pocket, gives them each one.

It’s odd when the sky starts to get dark and Stiles looks up, thinking maybe it’s going to start to downpour. But it’s not. The sky is a deep blue as the sun seems to be getting eclipsed. There was no eclipse scheduled - he’s totally _not_ a nerd for having an add-on that has star patterns and eclipse timers - and the dogs shy away from him, whimper and huddle up with each other.

“What’s the matter? It’s only—” Thunder booms and his vision goes black.

“Derek? Yo, Derek?” There’s someone shaking his shoulder, a panicked voice accompanying it.

“Why are you calling him Derek?”

“It’s nothing, Danny.”

“Derek? Wake up. What do you think happened, Isaac?”

There are hands on his face and he opens his eyes, makes a noise when he sees they’re Erica’s, “Ew.” He moves away from her, bumping into Isaac. There’s a pounding in his head, and he’s on the stupid hard floors of the school… The school. Why is he at school? He was just…

“Stiles, you okay?” Danny’s leaning down and looking at him, concerned.

He looks down at his hands. _His_ hands. _Not_ Derek’s. He rubs his hands over his face and chuckles. No stubble. He’s himself again. He looks up with a smile, “Uh… Yeah, Danny, I’m alright.”

Erica’s hand is grabbing him again, at the chin and turning his head toward her. She looks at him with scrutiny, “Stiles?”

“ _Drills_.” He tells her and she scoffs, gets up. Scott’s behind her and he kneels down.

“…Are you… You again?” He asks and Stiles gently slaps his face.

“Yeah, buddy.” He grins and gets up. Scott helps, and he’s surprised when Isaac helps him up as well.

“You fell.” Isaac informs quietly, “Well… Derek fell. You got up.”

“Derek! That’s right. I gotta go.” He’s a little dizzy but grabs his backpack from the floor and heads out, waving off the suggestions that he see a nurse.

—

Derek wakes up on his back, soft ground under him. There’s something on his chest, soft noises being heard and he opens his eyes, met with seven dogs crowded around him, a person, too.

“Are you alright, dear?” An elderly woman asks and he moves a tiny dog off of him as he sits up.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He tells her, presses a hand to his forehead. It feels like he’s getting a headache and the dogs nuzzle at him, one licks his face, “Okay, okay.”

“It was just a little storm, no reason to be scared. Look, the sun’s already coming back out.” She tells him, then clicks her tongue to her dog, “Come on, Peaches. Leave the boy alone.”

The little dog he took off his chest barks softly and follows her. His phone vibrates in his pocket. He slips it out while he looks around, not knowing where he is, “Yeah?”

“Derek!” Stiles’ voice says urgently and he stands. The dogs look up at him, waiting obediently.

“Stiles, calm down.” He tells him soothingly.

“Are you okay?! Do you know what happened?! _Are you okay?!_ ” Stiles sounds a bit manic and he can hear the rumble of the Jeep in the background.

“Stiles, I’m fine. Are you okay? Did you leave school?” He asks, hears the old Jeep coming down the street, “You did leave school.”  
  
“So what if I left school? I just got my body back, I can miss a little school. I’m glad you’re okay, are the dogs okay?”  
  
“Uh, yeah… Why am I with dogs? How many am I with?” He looks down at them. There are six sitting there, watching him like his own pups do sometimes.  
  
“Six! They’re from the animal shelter. You’re at the dog park. You’re walking them today because I thought it be good for you to be seen doing something for the community.” Derek watches as the Jeep pulls up and Stiles staggers out, running all lanky and awkward up to him. Derek ends the call and slips it back into his pocket, looks back up to see Stiles is _right there_.  
  
Stiles wraps his arms around his neck in a hug and Derek takes a step back to slow him down, make it not so painful when they collide. His arms circle around his middle and something flares inside them; the bond. Stiles’ small gasp is just confirmation that he feels it, too. When Derek looks at him, the younger teen’s eyes flicker blue.

“You okay?” The wolf asks and the kid nods shakily.

“Y-Yeah. I’m good. We should uh, get-get the dogs back to the shelter.” Stiles pulls away slowly, blinks a few times and the electric color fades, disappears. He nods and he grabs their leashes, tells Stiles to go back to his car when he starts to walk with him.

—

It’s good, being back in his own body. He’s checked himself out in the mirror, made sure Derek didn’t get him tattooed or anything. There’s none, and he hears an almost muted thump as someone tumbles through his window. He’s grabbing for his shirt when Derek comes into view, which makes him stop at the way the wolf’s eyes slip directly to his chest.

“Hey.” He says timidly, gnawing on his bottom lip. Derek smiles softly and walks closer, standing behind him. Stiles looks back into the mirror, up at the older teen. Derek’s hands move forward, slide around to his hips, nudge at the fabric of his jeans until he’s holding the bones. It’s like something radiates from him, sending tingles up and down Stiles’ body and he breathes in sharp.

The wolf leans in close to his ear, “Look at those eyes.”

Stiles first looks at Derek’s, sees them flicker with red and then put on a steady glow. He glances to his own, then glances again, disbelieving that they’re actually sparking with a vibrant blue. It’s faint and delicate and he thought it would only happen while he was in Derek’s body, just a trait or something.

He touches his fingertips just under his lower lashes, leans closer to get a better look, “Goddamn.”

Derek chuckles and leans down, presses a kiss between his shoulder blades, “Surprised?”

Stiles wets his lips, feels the other teen’s hands squeeze at his hipbones, “Y-Yeah, a little.”

“But you said it yourself…” Derek tells him, gives a kiss to the back of his neck and then some along his shoulder. Stiles swallows hard and the flickers in his eyes pick up, dance around chocolate brown, spark a little more excitedly at what he’s feeling. “A bond.”

“D-Derek.” He watches as the wolf’s tongue peeks out, moves over the pulse point in his neck.

“This is a warning, Stiles.” Is what he gets before Derek’s pressing up against him, tongue gliding lazily along the dip of his collarbone. He’s aware that his own eyes flare up like Derek’s, fully ice blue and he feels like he’s run a mile. The older teen’s hand slip around, blunt nails scrape at his mildly defined stomach and he gasps, presses back against him.

Everything’s getting to that hypersensitive place again, but he can almost _feel_ Derek controlling it, not giving him everything. He’s so thankful. He get bold and ruts back against him, Derek’s hands moving down to undo his belt. _Derek’s belt_ , he thinks. The wolf kept his belt while in Stiles’ body. He looks down, watches him undo the clasp and pull the leather out, then his hands fall to the button of his jeans, work it open.

“You touched yourself when you were in my body.” The wolf’s voice is low, gravelly and it sends shocks down Stiles’ spine.

“I’m sorry.” He says, moans softly when teeth graze his throat.

“You made me come.” Derek grits into his ear, presses a little kiss just below, nuzzles by his hair. He shoves his hand into Stiles’ underwear and grips him, touches for the first time and Stiles yelps, hips buck at his hand just being around him. He knows he can feel the arousal pumping through _both_ of them and pumps his hand once before he lets go. Stiles’ hip hump against air.

He turns him with a smirk, crowds him again by setting his hands on the counter. The kid has wide, blue eyes and it’s _beautiful_ , breathtaking really. “Oh, Stiles.” He allows his claws to come out, raises one hand and strokes them barely-there across Stiles’ cheek.

The younger teen quakes and waits until they’re safely away from his skin before he pushes himself, molds his mouth to Derek’s. It’s like something explodes, shatters in a lovely way and Derek makes a noise, groan and growl swirled together. Stiles cradles his face in his hands and feels himself being dragged from the counter, trusts Derek not to get him hurt as he walks backwards blindly. He concentrates on the way the wolf’s lips feel against his, fevered slide and gentle push. He digs a little at the stubble under his fingers, drags his fingertips along it, down to Derek’s neck.

He feels the wood of his bed against the backs of his knees and is encouraged to sit. He parts their mouths and breathes in as he sits, hands move down the other teen’s chest, to the hem of the shirt Stiles put him in that morning. Derek eagerly takes and lifts it over his head, eyes following the path Stiles’ hands go on while they feel around his skin.

“It’s so much better when you’re you.” Stiles whispers, almost like he didn’t intend for it to be said, but it’s voiced and it makes Derek smile. He takes his wrists and leans down, presses their lips together again. He eases the kid down, pins his wrists. Derek loves when he tries to pull away to get his hands back on him again. He nips softly at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m glad you’re yourself again. Couldn’t look at you as much when you were me.” He honestly doesn’t know how long he stared at himself in the water of a lake last night, just taking in how beautiful this kid is, how much he means to some people. He’s honored to have even spent a day helping him out. There’s something so mixed between them and he can’t believe it took him something like this to see it.

He licks down the front of his neck, suckles just below the hollow of his throat and hears a soft sigh of content through the heavy breathing. He continues down, kissing at his chest, over his heart. Stiles is the heart for a lot of people, and those now include Derek. Derek has a place there, somewhere to belong. He accepts gratefully, fully. He lays his ear there as he lets his hands slip away from the kid’s wrists and hears the quickened thump-thump, feels hands thread in his hair.

“Hear something you like?” Stiles’ tone is teasing, but it’s so soft that it’s genuine. He’s actually asking if he likes it. He hums and nods, lifting his head. He leaves lavish kisses down his stomach, heads to one side when he gets to his hips and his canines slip out. He knows he’s not going to give him the bite, but a part of him, way deep down where the wolf lays and growls invitingly, wants to.

He looks up at Stiles and sees him watching. He nuzzles at his hipbone and his hand comes up, curls in the denim of his jeans by the button in a silent ‘ _don’t move_ ’. He lets his fangs graze his hipbone, breath roll over his skin. He lets out a soft growl and Stiles’ head falls back onto the mattress, a breathy whisper, “Oh, my God.”

Derek retracts his canines and licks at his hip, moves to his other one and plants a kiss there. His fingers trace the trail of hair below Stiles’ bellybutton, all the way down until he can’t anymore, then begins to slip him free of his clothing.

Stiles lifts his hips and his heart is pounding. He’s sure Derek’s is, too. In the back of his mind, far away, he thinks he can hear it, feel it. He shakes his feet to get the denim and cotton off and he’s completely exposed. Anxiety rolls around in his belly but he pushes it away, opts for watching Derek crawl up his body. They kiss again, soft and brief before Derek’s taking his hands, settling them on his jeans. He fiddles to get the button undone and tugs down the zipper, sits up on his elbows after because _shit, shit, he’s gonna get to see_.

The older teen shucks away the clothing, smirks when he sees Stiles’ parted lips and color dusted all over his cheeks. He takes one of the kid’s thighs and brings it up, settles himself in between his legs, presses them together. Stiles rocks up and Derek grabs around to his lower back and lifts, moves him up by the pillows.

The younger teen smiles and takes Derek by the back of the neck, brings him down for a kiss while his other hand reaches up under his pillow, to the tube he keeps there for special occasions. This is the most special occasion he’s ever had. When Derek pulls way to let him breathe, he holds it up. Derek’s the one that looks severely short of breath.

“Show me.” He isn’t exactly begging - but it really sounds like a beg - and he sits back, keeps his hand around the kid’s ankle. He watches Stiles get completely comfortable on the bed and open the cap.

He spreads the slippery substance on two of his fingers and takes a deep breath. He always gets excited for this part. He moves his hand down between his legs and touches the pad of his middle finger to his entrance, hips twitch slightly and then he’s pushing it in, relaxing himself so it goes in easily. He refuses to look at Derek’s face, knows he’ll get hasty and won’t stretch himself right. But he hears the groan and licks his lips, works his finger in and out slowly.

Derek’s trying so hard not to lean down and help, get him open and wet with his tongue. He wants his mouth _everywhere_ on him, but restrains himself. That’s for another time, he tells himself. Stiles works the other finger in and he grips at his ankle, knows Stiles’ feels how he’s feeling.

The younger teen’s body jerks and he moans, thrusting his fingers in and hitting his sweet spot. He whimpers and his legs fall open just a little more, Derek gasps. He scissors his fingers, impatiently gets himself ready because it’s all becoming too much, having Derek right here and not being able to _have_ him.

He deems himself ready after a few long moments and Derek’s leaning back down, kissing him. He gets out a muffled, “M’ready” against his lips and the lube is taken from his other hand, some coated on Derek’s cock before he feels the head against him. His hands fly to hold onto something - Derek’s shoulders - and his legs are being pulled up, wrapped around the wolf’s waist. “Please,” He starts but Derek _knows_ , and he pushes in, slow and gentle and steady and all the words Stiles are about to continue with are lost.

Derek moves his mouth to his lover’s neck and presses fevered kisses there while he feels Stiles stretch for him, open for him. He’s not scared of hurting him, faintly knows Stiles isn’t in any pain, like it’s something in the back of his mind just sitting there helpfully, reassuringly.

“Fuck,” Stiles digs his nails into the other’s shoulders and feels raw, literally stripped bare and submitting. And it’s _so good_. He pants when Derek stops, all the way in and is giving him the time to adjust. A tongue is making patterns on his sweaty skin and he tilts to give it all the skin it wants. He clenches his inner muscles and Derek growls. They both have a tough time keeping their hips still, “Move. C’mon, Derek.”

The first thrust is a huge relief, no pain, intermixing pleasure and pressure and they’re both muffling moans into each other’s mouths. It starts a rhythm, slow, _fuck it’s so good please sweet jesus_ , speed up, slow down again. It becomes a little uneven, Stiles’ hips bucking and his throat all exposed when he throws his head back. Derek thrusts in hard, right against his sweet spot and covers Stiles’ mouth with his hand to muffle the loud cry that erupts from him. He goes to move it away but Stiles grabs for it, keeps it there and moans over and over again.

Derek’s whole body tingles, shakes him and he speeds up. His lover’s eyes, all lit up in their bond, meet his and the wolf inside him howls. He swears and Stiles’ free hand goes to his cock, pumps vigorously. They both whimper. It’s so on edge and Stiles bites a little at his palm, nods and his hips buck up. Derek hides his face in his neck and groans against his skin, lets himself go and howls as he comes.

The sound shocks Stiles’ heart and he’s coming all over his fist and stomach. He’s involuntarily closing around his lover but Derek won’t let up with his thrusts. He moans openly against his hand and they start to slow, fucking pulsing with heat and pleasure. Stiles really is bordering to hypersensitivity now.

He lets Derek’s hand fall from his mouth and he pants along with him, moves his clean hand to the wolf’s hair and cards his fingers through it. Derek hums softly, eyes closed.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Hey, Stiles, did you hear that howl?” It’s the Sheriff and Stiles is too sated to even be scared. The door’s locked, anyway.

“Yeah, Dad. I did.” He says back lazily, presses a kiss to Derek’s sweaty forehead, “And it was amazing.”

—

When Stiles walks into school, he’s feeling great. Not even the anxiety of school can get him down. Scott says he smells different and he plans on telling him about the bond him and Derek have later. He surprised when people smile at him in the hall, pat his shoulder instead of shoving him out of their way. He doesn’t really hear what they say, a few taking at once each time, but he smiles anyway.

At lacrosse, he’s put in play. He’s scared - what awesome moves did Derek do to get him on Coach’s good side? - but he tries one he’s practiced and Danny says later that that is his favorite one from a day ago.

At lunch, people actually call him over to their tables, but he sticks with Scott, Jackson and Danny. Lydia sits next to him when she gets there, Isaac nuzzles him like he did while he was in Derek’s body and chuckles before he sits down.

He’s invited to a training session. He takes them there and when he gets out of his Jeep, Derek’s there, greeting his pups before turning to him. Derek kisses him full on the mouth, slips his tongue in and explores a little before pulling away. Derek holds his hand so his eyes spark with blue.

He’s glad he didn’t take too much advantage of being in Derek’s body when it all started, because he’s sure it would have went a completely different way if he shaved Derek’s head.


End file.
